Page 186 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

“Dad.”

I look back at Oliver. “Yes?”

“You’re making a weird face.”

“I have several.”

He cocks his head to one side, considering me. “This one's serious.”

“That narrows it down very little.”

He studies me, then returns to arranging a small plane beside the couch leg. “Sunshine says you think too much.”

“Sunshine?”

“Addy, remember? That’s her airport name.”

There are moments with Oliver when I can see myself in him. The focus, the way he categorizes information, the way he watches before speaking.

Then there are these moments, where he smiles with a warmth that belongs entirely to his mother.

Those are harder.

I move to the dining table with my laptop, positioning myself so I can see both Oliver and the screen. I have no intention of doing significant work today.

That, at least, is the theory.

The theory lasts twelve minutes.

A message from Jeffrey comes through first.Pulled more reports. No external breach found. Still don’t like the patch.

Then Sara.Media schedule finalized. Board wants a final demo verification Monday. No room for error.

No room for error.

There never is.

I open the documentation because ignoring it won’t make it less relevant.

The corrupted demo sequence fills the screen, followed by Bryce’s patch, the sandbox results, and the internal diagnostic reports from the last forty-eight hours. I move through them methodically, isolating each error and comparing it against the system behavior before and after the patch.

On paper, the patch is stable, functional, and effective. Those are the facts. The problem is that facts, in isolation, can be misleading.

“Captain, no,” Oliver says firmly.

I glance up in time to see Captain inching one paw toward the runway.

“Captain,” I warn.

The dog freezes, eyes shifting toward me with the expression of someone caught negotiating international borders.

“Back.”

He retreats three inches.

Oliver sighs. “He doesn’t respect safety.”

“No,” I say, turning back to the laptop. “He does not.”